


Drinking Alone

by courie969



Series: The Kink Chronicles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Dean, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent not shown on screen, Explicit Consent, Implied Consent, M/M, Public Scene, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Semi-Public Sex, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courie969/pseuds/courie969
Summary: The Kink ChroniclesDean tries to relax after a long day and instead gets a bit more than he bargained for.





	Drinking Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags! Keep in mind that while not shown on screen, there is implied explicit consent. This is a semi-public scene in which Dean and Cas agreed to before going into this situation.

He sits on the bar stool half watching the game playing on the TV above him. He swirls the ice cubes in his whiskey glass before taking a long sip, savoring the smoky flavor – an acquired taste he developed a few years ago while still in college. He smiles slightly at the memory.

“Hey there, handsome, buy you a drink?”

Dean startles at the newcomer's voice – deep and rich, much like his whiskey. He glances at the man’s face, taking in the 5'o clock shadow and eerie blue eyes for a moment before he shakes his head as he lifts his half full glass. “I'm good, thanks.” He lifts his lips in a smirk as the man scowls and takes another sip from his glass – he turns his attention back to the game.

Blue-eyes brushes his hand across Dean's cheek. “Don't be like that sweetheart, you look lonely.”

“Get the hell off me, man, I'm not interested.” Dean pulls away from the intruding hand, the bar stool scraping against the floor as he moves to the next stool over, putting distance between them. He shrugs his right shoulder, trying to shake off the fingers trailing across his neck and shoulders as the stranger leans in close. Dean feels hot breath against his ear.

“You'll change your mind.”

And suddenly, he's gone. Dean lets out a breath he didn't realize he’s holding. “Fucking creep,” he says to no one in particular, gesturing to the barkeep for another shot of whiskey.

 

*****

It feels like someone's been watching him for awhile now. The hair on the back of Dean's neck periodically feels like it's standing on end, but every time he turns in his stool he finds nothing. He thinks of the man from earlier but shakes off the unease when he doesn't spot him in the semi-crowded bar.

Soon enough the game he's been watching ends and his first (and last) beer is empty, Dean calls out to the barkeep to have a good night and makes his way to the bathroom. He pushes his way through the crowd and into the men's room, the door swinging shut behind him.

Dean stands in front of the urinal and unzips his pants, removing himself from the confines of his jeans. Cock in hand, he yelps as strong arms shove him hard against the cold tiled wall – he didn't even hear anyone else come in. Dean struggles against whoever has him pinned, panic bubbling up in his chest.

“I told you you'd change your mind, sweetheart.” The voice is low against his ear, but it echoes loudly in the otherwise quiet room. The man's hand is yanking Dean's jeans open further and shoving them down his hips.

“Get the fuck off me,” Dean cries out, frantic, his struggles stunted as he's pressed into the tiles roughly. He bucks his hips backward when fingers wrap around his cock. The hand strokes roughly, and Dean sobs as he feels himself getting harder and harder. “No! Damn it, no! Please... no.”

The man chuckles darkly and drags Dean down to the dirty floor, shoving Dean’s cheek against it as his hand leaves Dean's cock and presses his fingers against Dean's hole. “Look at you, already prepared. Were you waiting for someone? Get stood up? And you told me no.”

“No, fuck you.” Dean tries to lift his head only to be pushed back down. His muscles ache from trying to shake the man off his back, and he tenses when two fingers shove into his ass. Dean tries to squirm away, but an arm wraps around his hips and keeps him still.

“Oh sweetheart, no, I'm going to fuck you whether you like it or not. Such a pretty thing, fighting me like this.”

The fingers pull out quickly, causing Dean to wince, and then he's being filled with a thick cock. Dean whimpers at the intrusion and gasps out a breath when the man slams forward, his thrusts relentless. Dean lets his body go lax, and the man's grip on his hips—the only thing keeping Dean upright—tightens. He can't help the moan that spills from his mouth when the next three or four thrusts hit his prostate in rapid succession. The man chuckles above him, but Dean’s ears are ringing, and his cheek hurts where it's still pressed against the floor.

Dean can feel the hot tears leaking from his eyes, and he can hear himself protesting softly, a litany of “no” and “please” fall from his lips, yet the ruthless pounding doesn't quit and suddenly Dean sees lightning behind his eyes and he's coming hard. His muscles shake, and his skin feels hot and a loud groan reaches his ears as the man comes hot into his ass. The thrusts slow down and become shallow, come trickling out of his hole as the dick pulls out. He's shoved forward and sprawls out on the floor as the man moves away from him.

Dean curls into himself and presses his face into his arms.

*****

He's not sure how long, but soon enough Dean feels strong arms wrap around him, gathering him into a tight hug. Hands pet through his hair and stroke down his cheeks.

“Dean, look at me, sweetheart. Come back to me.”

Dean looks up into concerned blue eyes and gives Cas a half smile. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas surges forward and captures his mouth in a sweet kiss; his tongue lingers on his lower lip. “Are you okay, Dean? I wasn't too rough?” His hands are on Dean's face again, smoothing his thumbs across his sore cheekbone and brushing away lingering tears.

“M'good, baby, promise – just like we talked 'bout.” Dean slurs, his head heavy, and he leans into the cool touch of Cas' hand. He opens his mouth, throat raw, to take a soothing drink of water as a bottle is pressed against his lips. Finishing half, he turns his head away, and Cas peppers kisses into his temple, whispering praise against his hair. Cas’ whiskey-soaked voice bringing Dean the comfort he needs.

“So good for me, Dean.” Cas picks himself off the floor and reaches for Dean, pulling him to his feet. Cas tugs Dean's jeans in place and offers him a small smile, which Dean returns in full while buttoning his pants.

“Let's go home.”

Dean nods and follows Cas, their hands clasped together, as he unlocks the door to the bathroom. They make their way through the crowd and out the front door, only letting go of each other to climb into the car.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with us on [Tumblr](https://thekinkchronicles.tumblr.com)!


End file.
